Twas the night before Strasmas, when all through the clubhouse

Not a teammate was stirring, not even a mouse,

The jerseys were hung by the lockers with care,

In hopes that Stephen’s changeup would soon be there, The lineup was nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of fat Verlander fastballs danced in their heads.

And Rizzo in his hoodie, and Davey in his cap,

Had just settled down for a pre-Game 6 nap.